Specter Spectrum
by Inks Inc
Summary: When you're a high powered, high-life living New York attorney, you don't need anyone. Right? Harvey sure thinks so, but when Mike Ross falls into his path, setting lawyer and fraud down a new path that neither expected, even Harvey can't deny that his associate is more than just a rookie to him. He's family. Where he's from, family is everything. WARNING: Spanking. COMPLETED
1. Vial Violence

The monotone of the speaker's voice was beginning to bore into every fibre of his mind as he sat in the uncomfortably hot conference room. His inexpensive suit clung to his slim frame as a clammy sweat began to radiate through him.

Chancing a furtive glance at the man who lolled beside him, who was not bothering to hide his open boredom, Mike's already dry throat crackled some more. Licking his lips nervously, he focused his gaze down at the pamphlet lying in his lap.

The voice droned on, as his thoughts whirred around his mind.

It was… a bad situation.

…an extremely bad situation.

He'd looked at it from every conceivable angle, he'd paced the floor of his apartment with such an intensity that the wooden floorboards had begun creaking in protest under his onslaught.

No matter what way he dressed it up, looked at it, analysed it…he came up with the same conclusion.

He was screwed.

He so screwed that the dogs on the street would take pity on him should they know of his situation.

Trying, and failing, to ignore the cold trickle of sweat that was making its steady way down his back, his gut clenched in the now habitual bout of panic.

His eyes flickered towards Harvey once more.

Even at the height of mandatory client relations seminar based boredom, the man exuded a confident calmness that the younger of the duo would kill for in the current moment.

The sensible, logical part of him was all but marching around his mind with a placard, neon paint splashed across the canvas spelling out the words " _tell him."_

The young sort-of-lawyers gut did another somersault.

How _could_ he tell him?

The insensible, illogical part of his was all but marching around his mind with a placard, neon paint splashed across the canvas spelling out the words " _never tell him."_

His pulse quickened, as the meeting thundered on around him. His breath caught in his chest, as he glanced wonderingly around the room. An army of serene, bored and downright _asleep_ faces stared back at him.

No one else in the room was bordering on heart palpitations, no one else in the room was even aware of the fact that someone in their midst was very close to passing out.

No one else in the room was sweating like a stuck pig either.

…and it was nothing to do with the air conditioning.

Flexing his leg surreptitiously, he felt the plastic vial push against his leg in answer to his now habitual self reassuring gesture.

He barely caught the questioning look that was being directed at him by his boss, before schooling his pale features into a thoroughly unconvincing show of nonchalance.

Smiling a shadow of his usual chirpy smile, he rolled his eyes in Harvey's direction, hopefully passing off his indifference to the seminar for the reason of his fidgeting.

When the closer's gaze slowly drifted off him, he breathed a sigh of relief before sucking back in a lungful of anxiety.

Beside the young man, a mind was once again shuddering into action.

He wasn't being paranoid, he wasn't being cynical…and he _wasn't_ being a hardass.

The kid was hiding something.

He'd been a jittery, stuttering mess for the last five days and no matter how hard he tried to flash that damn toothy smile, Harvey knew something was off.

Seriously off.

He had tried gently prodding and poking. A first for him.

…and given the fruits it had reaped, he could hardly believe that he'd allowed Donna to force him into using the soft touch.

Mike had clammed up tighter than an oyster, and that maddening skinny tie had nearly flapped with the exertion of his head shaking. His reassurances that he was just fine.

His lies.

If he'd had his way he would have just demanded the truth from the kid from the get go. He wouldn't have nearly choked on a vast array of different wordings of _"are you ok?"_

He sighed inwardly.

His affections towards Mike irritated him.

He always _had_ been aggravated by what he couldn't understand.

…and if there was one thing that he couldn't understand, _didn't_ understand…it was how easily, and how quickly this damned kid had gotten under his skin. How effortlessly he had implanted himself in his life. How seamlessly he had transitioned from a dispensable associate to…well, hell if knew.

 _More_ than a dispensable associate anyway.

He groaned inwardly.

A lot more.

As the guest speaker continued to meander on down the intersection of fifth and no one gives a crap, the senior partner and rookie sat in a haze of their individual thoughts.

Another half an hour or so snailed by at a sickeningly slow pace, before mercy finally fell upon Pearson-Hardman, and the guest smiled his last irritating smile and called the hellish meeting to an end.

Clambering up with the surging of bodies and the growing din of chatter, Mike shot Harvey a weak grin before scampering out the door in the middle of a group of associates, riding the wave back down to the bull pen.

A frustrated hand was run through perfectly styled hair, as Harvey slowly got to his feet, his expensive suit falling around his built frame in a way that no other than a three thousand dollar suit could.

Making his way back to his corner office, he was relentlessly plagued by the image he had captured of Mile when he had been off guard.

Pale, clammy… sweaty.

 _Scared._

Harvey racked his brains, retracing all recent cases in his mind. Did the kid monumentally screw up on one of them and was too terrified to tell him?

A frown crossed the handsome face.

If that was the case…then it was _he_ who'd screwed up. He had a reputation for being an unforgiving asshole, but with Mike…it was different.

He would always forgive Mike.

Letting out a groan of frustration he threw himself down behind his desk and was soon lost in a haze of settlement strategies.

Elsewhere, lost was the very definition of Mike's current state. He sat limply at his desk, watching as if through a lens the hustling and bustling that was going on around him. The stack of briefings lay in front of him, his eyes roving them unseeingly.

The plastic vial in his pocket seemed to be scorching a third degree burn into the delicate skin of his inner thigh.

He could just toss it.

Just toss it and go about his life.

His eyes rolled of their own accord.

His life would be a very short, clipped story if he dumped that infernal vial. For the millionth time he cursed _everything_ even mildly _Trevor_ related.

It all came back to him, just like it always did…like it always _would._

Mike swallowed.

No. This was the final straw, the camel's back was well and truly broken, and when this fiasco ended…however it ended, Trevor was no longer a part of his life.

Not even a miniscule piece.

His throat crackled some more as he thought of the advice Harvey had given him regarding his screwed up so-called _friend._

He hadn't taken that advice, and it was the not taking of that advice that could now not only cost him his already tenuous career, but his freedom too.

…or his life.

Either or.

A tense ball of fear lodged itself in his windpipe as the scenario that had kept him awake at night for over a week, sailed over his conscious brain.

The "tell Harvey" mantra rattled around his mind again, before he quickly shut it down.

Telling him would mean admitting he'd lied.

Admitting he'd been hanging out with Trevor more and more frequently. Admitting that he'd mumbled straight up lies when Harvey had asked if he was steering clear of his oldest, and most troublesome, friend.

The little ball got a little bit tighter.

Before he could contemplate the complete and utter hopelessness of his situation any further, a vibration began in his pocket.

The surge of dread that erupted through him was not unexpected.

Turning a whiter shade of an already stark pale, the young would-be lawyer groped around for his ringing phone, praying that maybe it would just his grandmother.

The brown eyes reluctantly zoned downwards.

Nope.

Not Grandma Ross.

The little ball was now threatening to cut off his oxygen intake entirely.

Biting his lip with such a ferocity that a small droplet of blood instantly oozed out, the rookie lawyer took a quick appraising glance over his surroundings.

No one was paying him the least bit of attention.

Sucking in a disproportionate amount of oxygen, he swiped a trembling finger over the phone's display and hesitantly brought it up to his ear.

The already ashen quality of his complexion took another nosedive into the whitest of white pallor's as the voice on the other end breathed into his brain.

…and just as soon as his head had resonated with the voice, it was gone.

Dropping the cell out of his now clammy hand, Mike suddenly felt a tidal wave of acidic nausea engulf him.

Clambering out of his chair, he hightailed it out of the bull pen and in the direction of the nearest available bathroom. Barging in, he felt a stab of relief to find the mens room completely empty as he hurtled into the nearest cubicle.

The contents of his lunch were instantly upended into the toilet bowl, as he retched over it, clinging on with a sweaty grasp.

Wiping a shaking hand over his mouth, he least against the cool walls of his cubicle and groaned.

Tonight it was then.

He swallowed.

He would either get out of this tonight for good, or it would change everything, for good.

Standing slowly, he dimly realised that Harvey would be screaming for the briefings in another hour, and he hadn't even started in on them.

He began the slow walk back to his desk, feeling an odd sense of relief from the finality of the situation.

One way or another, the not knowing, would come to an end tonight.

He worked robotically throughout the rest of the day, not even uttering a single witty comeback to Harvey's mixture of frustrated lecturing and dripping sarcasm at his lack of progress. As the clocks shuddered onto the eight pm mark, he wrapped it up.

Stuffing a few files into his messenger bag, the threw it over his shoulder and began the walk out of Pearson-Hardman.

He took his time.

This could be the last time he ever traipsed around the firm.

…the last time he traipsed around _any_ firm.

Walking past the dimmed lights of Harvey's office, he stopped short.

He'd spent hundreds of hours in there. Hours spent learning, laughing…

He shook his head.

He didn't have the time or the luxury of melancholy. If he ever wanted to lounge in that glass panelled room and mock Harvey for his record collection again, he needed to focus.

Walking at a much brisker gate, he was soon breathing in the cool evening air of New York city.

He unchained his bike, dragging the cold metal frame to him with some difficulty. Looping the lock round the saddle, he hesitated.

He could get on this bike, and cycle home.

He breathed deeply.

Or, he could get on this bike, and cycle where he had been told to cycle. Go where he had been told to go, and to be there when he had been told to be there.

A lifetime seemed to pass him by as he stood rooted to the spot, his hands resting on the handlebars of the stationary bike. Hurrying New Yorkers passed him at an agitated gate, cursing this asinine fool for standing in the middle of the street with his eyes closed.

Those same eyes fluttered open a few moments later, the usual warm brown quality being replaced with a hardened sense of purpose.

Swinging his leg over the bike, he set off in a northerly direction.

He wasn't going home.

…and that would be the start of the unfortunate chain of events that were to unfold from that moment on.

Hours later, and he was once again looking down the barrel of his own stupidity.

The chair beneath him reeked of hard hitting, low budged chemical cleansers. The occupant in the chair beside of him reeked of quite the opposite. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he leant as far away as possible from his new acquaintance.

The shrill of ringing telephones and the stench of inexpensive coffee washed over him as he sat.

Sat and thought about how good it had been while it lasted.

About how moronic he had been to believe it _could_ last.

About how much of a self fulfilling prophecy he was.

His acquaintance was moving now, being hauled up by two sets of well worn hands. With a final belch, he was gone, leaving Mike all alone.

…and that's exactly what he was, alone.

How long he stewed there, he didn't know. There were no clocks in his line of sight, but judging by the beginning stiffness that was forming in his joints, it was quite a while.

He didn't even bother trying to sleep.

Staring at the less than clean floor, with his mind whirring a hundred thoughts over and over, he was suddenly pulled from his haze of regrets.

"Hey! Are you _deaf?"_

Jerking his head up, he focussed bleary brown eyes on a heavily irate looking officer. Blinking rapidly, he sat up a little straighter, the shackles binding him to his chair causing him appreciable difficulty.

Licking his dry lips, he managed to murmur a small "not that I know of."

The feral grin that bared back at him was not encouraging.

"Oh a smart ass" the mid forties cop drawled, "we just _love_ those around here."

He paused , running an eye of the slim frame and the obviously lacking in experience look of the young man in front of him.

"You got a lawyer, smart ass?"

Mike stared for a moment, and tried to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat.

"I _am_ a lawyer" he eventually stated, forcing himself to be calm. To _seem_ calm. He sat up a little straighter.

The hearty guffaw that floated around the holding area of the precinct he was ensconced in made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

"Let me rephrase that" the officer sneered, "not that I give a rats ass if you've got a lawyer or not, the boss around here is a real stickler for the rules. I don't feel like wasting my time on you only to have a judge toss whatever we get because you didn't have representation."

He paused to suck some air into his expansive gut.

"So, do you have a lawyer who isn't…you know… _twelve_?"

Bristling, but seeing the man's point, Mike thought rapidly.

He was coming into his own in the technical side of the law, hell he was _born_ into his own…but the procedural? Did he really know enough to properly defend himself in an interrogation room with this goon and his ilk?

The placards were back.

With the neon paint.

Screaming _"no."_

He felt the room swoon in and out of focus slightly as he battled with himself. It was an easy decision, but a hard choice.

…but really, he had no choice.

Looking up at the rapidly glowering cop, he nodded his head and cleared his throat.

"Yeah…" he gulped, "yeah, I have a lawyer."

An expressive eye roll made its way to him.

" _Great"_ the older of the two drawled, "would you like to tell me their _name,_ or do you want me to sit down with you and play twenty guesses?"

Mike drew in the last breath he was sure he would ever breath. Calling this man would probably save his neck, but it would also probably cost him his life.

He ran a hand through his hair, and parted his lips with considerable difficulty.

"His name is…uhh…Harvey…"

He paused, reaffirming his potentially self destructive decision in his mind. Swallowing, he continued on the path to an early grave.

"His name is Harvey Specter."

…

TBC

...

A/N: So, I hadn't really thought of writing a multi chaptered Suits fic, but watching promos for season six coupled with a few requests, and here we are! I always find Harvey and Mike the hardest to write out of e.g. Gibbs/Tony et al or Peter/Neal so please bear with me!

Hope you guys enjoyed the start. I have no particular plot for this one in mind, just writing and seeing what happens, so if you want to see something in particular, just shout!

Thanks for reading!


	2. A to C

"Am I speaking a different language? Are you people listening to me here? You either bring Mike Ross out here _or_ I'm going in there for him. Entirely your choice."

Harvey's voice was billowing around the small processing area, as the clerk behind the counter gaped at the expensively dressed man. Pressing the guard bell for the tenth time, he hoped against hope it would be answered.

Despite how handsome and suave this man looked, he was positively frightening in his intensity and his loud insistences that he see his client.

Thankfully, the bell was answered, and an overweight middle aged cop lumbered out from the interrogation room.

Before the clerk could even stretch his tongue, Harvey had crossed the room and was in the police officers face.

"Are you the arresting officer in the Mike Ross case?"

The demand was simple, to the point and yet the cop's jaw dropped dramatically. He had thought the kid was lying when he said Harvey Specter was his attorney, and yet here he stood, in the flesh.

The highly aggrieved flesh.

Comporting himself with some difficulty, he nodded with a curtness he didn't really feel and held out a hand.

Reluctantly accepting it, Harvey gazed past the man's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of Mike.

He was unsuccessful.

"Charges?" he ground out in clipped tones, ignoring the rapidly affronted look that was spreading across the cops face.

Frowning, and levelling a glare of his own, the officer huffed before answering.

"Possession of a class C substance and resisting arrest."

There was a stunned silence. Harvey's rampant heart beat was slowing somewhat.

"Excuse me?" he eventually murmured, "run that by my again? You're holding _my_ guy for a bit of pot and because he didn't strip off and dance for you?"

The complexion of the cop instantly turned ruddy with rage.

"Laws apply to lawyers as well you know" he growled, "and the _main_ reason we were holding him was because he appears to have connections with a pretty serious drug runner. He's free to go now, but perhaps you might want to watch the company you keep. He wouldn't talk, we have nothing on him, and very little time so just get him out of my sight."

With that, he thrust the clipboard he was holding in Harvey's direction, who caught it and signed the attorney of record papers with a flourish.

"You understand he's being fined one thousand dollars in lieu of a court summons?"

The lawyer arched a perfect brow.

"Yes" he drawled, "you know, in second grade I _was_ voted most likely to read well by age forty."

Biting back a response, the cop merely stared in dignified disgust before turning on his heel. Passing the room where Mike sat, he didn't pause as he bellowed "your guard dog's here Ross, get the hell out of my precinct."

With the swoosh of double doors, he was gone.

Harvey watched silently as Mike sped from the room, looking like hell. His tie had disappeared, but he was still in the suit from the business day.

He watched, still silently, as the kid landed himself in front of him and looked up like a worried puppy, who's destroyed the house and his owners have just come home.

"Hey" he mumbled shamefacedly as Harvey glared.

He allowed the glare to reach molten magma strength before answering.

"Hey yourself. Nice evening isn't it?"

Mike flinched at the vibrating sarcasm, knowing from unpleasant experience that the older man's sarcasm tended to rise in correlation to his anger.

He didn't have time to dwell on that, as he felt his upper arm being grasped, and his body being propelled from the precinct.

"You've been fined a thousand dollars, I'll take care of it. Tomorrow I'll take care of this being expunged from your record, though how, I don't freaking now. Ray is outside, you're crashing at my place tonight. Is that understood?"

This was all said very fast and through gritted teeth.

Nodding wordlessly and miserably, Mike allowed himself to be guided forcefully to the awaiting limo. Not protesting as Harvey yanked the door open and slammed it after him, he winced internally.

Clambering in the other side, his boss ran a frustrated hand over his eyes before addressing the driver.

"My place please Ray, and partition up if you don't mind."

The last thing Mike saw before the sound proof glass began to slide up, was an unmistakably sympathetic look being thrown his way.

He shot a nervous look at a currently silent Harvey, and groaned internally when he saw the rigid posture and the deep frown lines.

He was pissed.

Nuclear level pissed.

Before he could rack his brains to come up with something to break the glacial ice, the elder lawyer beat him to it.

"So, I hear you're involved in a major drug operation? Is this something you started up when you weren't at Harvard?"

His tone was conversational, but to anyone who knew him, it was dripping with anger.

…and Mike knew him.

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

The truth, he supposed.

…but the truth was his own death warrant, and who could be blamed for not wanting to be their own judge, jury and executioner?

He ran a tongue over dry lips, feeling suddenly parched.

All of a sudden Harvey's hands were moving and a chilled bottled water was pressed into his hands.

Clasping it and feeling his guilt levels rise, he uncapped it and took a long suffering drought. His brain cells seemed to alight at the hydration, and the sensible part of it shuddered into action.

It was time to come clean.

Completely clean.

It may be the last thing he ever did, but still, it was his only option. He briefly enjoyed the relief that he had escaped a prosecution, and that Harvey would have his record sealed.

He also didn't know how the man was going to manage that, but he had no doubt that he would. His chest tightened somewhat as he realised how different the events of tonight could have been.

If the cops had turned up three and a half minutes earlier, he would have been looking at possession of a class A substance, with intent to distribute.

His chest contracted with the conflicting emotions of horror and relief.

Feeling Harvey's eyes trained on him in growing irritation, he swallowed hard.

"It's a long story…" he croaked out, feeling the full weight of his stupidity crush him once more.

Beside him, Harvey flinched in increased anger.

"We have all night to sit and talk about it" he growled, "and if I were _you,_ Michael, I'd treasure that ability to sit."

He took a draught from his own bottled water.

"Because I have a very strong feeling I'm going to be taking that ability away from you."

…

TBC

…

A/N: Update in the wings, promise!


	3. Trepidation and Trevor

The glass in the penthouse apartment seemed to glisten oddly in the night's glow as the tension rose within the room. He sat silently, peeking glances now and again at an intermittently shocked, scared and downright angry Harvey Specter.

He watched as the elder lawyer ran a hand through perfectly quaffed hair, and let out a billowing sigh of utter frustration as he clearly digested the rundown of events Mike had just given.

Very, very reluctantly given.

"Trevor" he eventually muttered, an appreciable bite in his smooth voice, "you're telling me, that this all comes to back to _Trevor."_

Not trusting himself to speak, Mike simply nodded miserably and cursed, for the millionth time, his asinine quality of trusting those who time and time again, proved unworthy.

"Is this the _same_ Trevor that you told _me,_ to my _face,_ that you no longer had any contact with? Is it that Trevor? Or is this some new Trevor, that I should have over for hot scones and coffee?"

Wincing, the recently released captive licked dry lips nervously. He knew Harvey's position on lying, and he definitely knew his position on loyalty. Lying, even by omission, was a big no-no.

Looking up from the sofa where he sat, at Harvey as he stood directly in front of him, he felt guilt swarm through his intestines.

"I'm sorry" he all but whispered, rarely having meant the words more than he did right now.

Another hand was run through what was now fairly windswept looking hair as Harvey digested this. The cogs in his mind where whirring furiously, running him through all the times the kid had lied to him.

Countless times.

He'd asked about Trevor in numerous different ways, over numerous different occasions, so convinced was he that he was utterly bad news.

Every time, that goddamned kid had looked him in the eye and assured him, that Trevor was a thing of the past.

Exhaling a breath he hadn't realised he was holding slowly, he ran a furious gaze over his seated protégée. He felt his hands go to his hips of their own volition, as he stared with mounting incredulity.

"You're sorry?" he eventually uttered faintly. "That's all you have to say to me? That you're _sorry?"_

Nodding miserably, Mike fidgeted in his chair and looked utterly dejected.

"I don't know what else to say" he added quietly, wondering how in the hell a few weeks could go oh, so very wrong.

Harvey gaped for the briefest of moments before recovering himself.

"You don't know what to _say?"_ he thundered, "you usually have _no_ problem worming out of things or giving me lip, and now all of a sudden, you're muted?"

He didn't even wait for an answer before angrily continuing on.

"How about, 'Hey, Harvey. I know I told you I would drop Trevor because I agreed with you that he was holding me back. I agreed with you to cut contact, so my job wouldn't be at risk. I agreed with you, but then I lied through my teeth every time you asked me about it."'

He glared, sucked in some air, and opened his mouth once more.

"How about, by the way Harvey 'I let him drag me into helping him out of yet _another_ drug deal gone bad. Except this time, his drug dealers thought _I_ was more valuable. So they forced me, using Trevor's life as leverage, to courier CLASS A DRUGS for them.'"

He paused again, groaning at the extent of his anger.

"Or how about 'so yeah, Harvey, I decided, screw you and all that you've done for me. I decided that I was going to be the next El Chapo and smuggle drugs through the FIRM. I decided to house and sell drugs from there because my new bestest friends for everest told me that the cops would never _dream_ of raiding such a high profile business."

The raw anger was beginning to seep from him now, as he spoke, being replaced with a burning but controllable anger.

He would never admit it, but the main reason he began calming himself down was the paling and frightened expression that was crossing Mike's face.

"How about that?" he finished quietly, staring down at the his squirming associate who was now looking anywhere but at him.

"Eyes on me" he added firmly, relieved to find himself in control of his emotions.

Blue eyes were reluctantly focused as directed, and Harvey could practically feel the waves of regret radiating of the kid and not for the first time, felt himself soften.

Running a hand over his face, he looked over at Mike with an almost saddened expression.

"Why'd you do it kid?"

The soft words were slightly tempered by the disappointment that oozed from them, and Mike flinched yet again in response.

He barely had time to recover, before the next onslaught of guilt arrived.

"Why didn't you come to me? I thought, by now, you would have trusted me."

Another flinch.

Knowing that he owed the man who had done so much for him an explanation, Mike forced his mouth to open and his brain to cooperate.

"They threatened to hurt you if I told you anything."

His quiet, unsure voice wafted out into the room as he stared at the ground shamefacedly.

…and just like that, Harvey's bubble of anger suffered a piercing blow.

He blinked, processing as fast and as best he could what the boy was saying.

"To hurt _me_?" he repeated almost dumbly.

The sandy spiky head nodded in dull misery, as his associate squirmed some more.

"They found out about you and…I couldn't take that chance."

Again, Harvey exhaled deeply, not used to the internal battle of emotions that was warring inside of him as he contemplated.

He was still angry as hell, but it was tempered with understanding. Perhaps if the same situation had been presented to him when he was Mike's age, and Jessica was threatened, he would have done the same thing.

On the other hand, none of this would have happened if the kid had cut ties with that asshole Trevor like he'd told him to, and like he'd told him he _had._

The conflicting feelings continued to do battle as he stared silently at an increasingly glum Mike. He suddenly wondered was it possible to physically die from exasperation. He once again traced a hand through his hair, and sighed.

"You lied to me" he stated quietly, watching the younger man carefully. He winced internally, as Mike winced externally.

"I know" came the quiet response, which went a way to further mollifying the anger. At least the kid wasn't lying now.

Moving instinctually rather than intelligently, he suddenly found himself crossing the room and seating himself beside an alarmed looking Mike Ross.

"Do you see _now_ ," he began slowly, "why I told you to stay away from Trevor? You think I like having to tell you to do things I know you don't want to do? I don't, and if I'm doing it, it's because I have a damn good reason. You have to start trusting that, Mike."

The younger man turned to look at him with a tortured expression on his face, before nodding in affirmation.

"I know" he repeated softly, "and I know it doesn't mean anything, but…I'm really sorry I lied about Trevor. You were right…and I guess, I guess…I just didn't want to admit that."

The instinctual barb that he was _always_ right flew to the tip of Harvey's tongue, but he bit it back.

As bad and as maddening as this situation was, Mike had basically just lost his oldest friend.

In the worst what that you _can_ lose your oldest friend. By having them basically betray you to save their own neck.

How else would they have known about him? Or where to lean on the kid?

Harvey's nostrils flailed with temper.

If he ever met _Trevor_ down a dark alley…

Pulling himself away from that happy thought with difficulty, he forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

Gathering his thoughts, he assessed himself critically.

He was still mad.

Very mad.

… but he was utterly in control, and utterly capable of objective and carefully considered thoughts and actions.

Opening his mouth slowly, he looked sideways at the most maddening, contradicting and blood pressure raising person he'd ever met, and sighed.

…but this time, the exasperation was tempered with a fondness.

"You put yourself in danger. You put your secret in danger. You lied to me. You brought the reputation of the firm into jeopardy. Would that be an accurate summary?"

Mike paled further, but managed the requisite head nod.

"Care to guess which of those I'm the most angry about?"

The squirming beside him instantly kicked up a notch, but he held firm, and captured the kid in a steely gaze.

"Putting myself in danger" Mike mumbled eventually, cursing himself more and more as he spoke.

Nodding slowly, Harvey felt the full weight of the fear he had felt when he had gotten that call from the precinct wash over him.

"Got in one" he confirmed dangerously, "I seem to recall that I have _been through this with you before?"_

Flushing, Mike nodded in agreement.

"Clearly I didn't make much of an impression as to just how very much I frown on that kind of reckless behaviour."

The kid baulked.

He _had_ made an impression on those occasions that he chose not to think about, and a very stark impression at that. Before he could open his mouth to assure the older man that such impressions were not ambiguous, he was cut off.

By the highly disconcerting image of Harvey removing a very expensive cuff link from his right cuff, and rolling up his sleeve.

"Stand up, Mike."

Feeling his mouth run dry, and his stomach lurch, the young lawyer couldn't help but shake his head frantically and open his mouth to argue his case.

Cutting him off with a glare and a pointed brow, Harvey pointed to a spot on the carpet beside his right knee.

"Stand up, and come here."

Again, this wasn't what Mike wanted to hear and he shook his head with an even greater degree of fervent objection.

The perfectly curved brows of Harvey Specter, that any woman would die for, knotted together as he merely continued to point with a resounding sterness.

" _Now, Michael."_

….

TBC

…


	4. Acceptance

"Harvey," Mike all but squawked, much to his annoyance, "can't we just talk about this first? C'mon man…"

Brown eyes flashed dangerously as the words fell out of the miserable associate, as a perfectly gelled head tilted to the side.

"Talk about it?" Harvey echoed quietly, "you want to talk about it? Ok then," he leant back in the chair and looked Mike full in the face, "let's talk about your complete and utter lack of common sense then shall we?"

Spying the look of consternation spreading across his geniuses face, he tilted his head once again.

"No?" he drawled, "that doesn't tickle your fancy? Ok…how about we talk some more about the fact that you've been lying to me for weeks? Or, about the fact that you've risked exposing both of us?"

The head tilted further.

"Or how about we talk about the fact that all that stuff pales in comparison to the fact that you put your damned _life_ on the line to help that moron of a friend of yours?"

Mike lips twitched as he squirmed in misery, and he found himself talking without realising it.

Not hearing the very muffled and mumbled words spoken, Harvey ran a tired hand across his face before returning an equally quiet "huh?"

Turning to look at his more-than-just-a-boss, Mike's eyes oozed with an honestly that relaxed Harvey's taut abdominal muscles instantly.

"I said" he repeated clearly, "that he is not my friend. I don't expect you to believe me after I lied to you …but after this, after everything that's happened…Trevor is no longer a part of my life."

The elder lawyer considered this for a moment, his eyes drinking in the stance of his protégée, before coming to the correct conclusion that the kid had finally seen the light.

If anyone were to ask, he would have denied it to his dying breath, but he consciously reached out and pulled Mike into him. He felt the kid melt into the sort-of hug, and sighed slightly.

"Look, Mike…" he said quietly, "sometimes things like this happen. People…who you thought your whole life would be your friend, and have your back…just aren't. I've no doubt that Trevor was once a good guy, but right now…he's not."

He paused to take a breath, and once again firmly committed to the fact that he would never be as freaking Oprah-esque out of the confines of his shiny apartment.

This kid was turning him into a half baked agony aunt.

Uncle…agony uncle.

He shook his head, and continued with his unusual bout of sensitivity.

"When that happens…it's hard, and you can bet your ass it's _hard,_ but in the long term…it's the right thing to do."

He took a deep breath and thanked God there was no Donna intercom in his penthouse.

"For what its worth…I'm proud of you, kid."

At that, Mike pulled away in complete and utter astonishment.

"Say _what_ now?"

Harvey had to chuckle at both the wide eyes and the tone.

"What? I tell you that all the time" he teased lightly, feeling more relaxed than he could have ever anticipated given their current situation.

Mike's splutter of indignation was not unprecedented.

"You only tell _yourself_ that you're proud of you" the kid quipped, but with his usual little grin shining through.

Harvey shrugged cockily with a matching grin of his own.

"Well…I _am_ proud of me. I'm awesome."

Blue eyes rolled heavily, as Mike felt relaxation overtake him also. He had feared his relationship with the man beside him was going to be irrevocably fractured, but it was obvious there wasn't even a dent in it.

His relaxation took a nosedive however, as he saw Harvey begin to push his sleeve up a little further.

So, their relationship might not be dented…but he wasn't sure he would be able to say the same for his butt.

A suddenly serious look was sent in his way, and he felt the usual nervous misery tickle its way through his stomach.

"You're still in a world of trouble here kid, you get that, right?"

Biting his lip whilst nodding miserably, Mike couldn't help but try his usual bout of wheedling and negotiating.

He _was_ a lawyer after all.

Well…kind of anyway.

"Can't I just…can't I just take the Davidson briefs instead?" he implored, putting his blue shining eyes to their fullest and most devastating use.

The Davidson briefs were thousands upon thousands of pages long, their utter tedium nearly proving a match for even Mike's brilliant mind.

Resisting the lure of the puppy's stare with great difficulty, Harvey managed to shake his head with the requisite firmness.

"Nope, you're not doing the Davidson briefs instead" he informed the kid wryly, "but you _are_ going to be doing the Davidson briefs _as well."_

Before the outraged looking protégée could argue, he pointed again to the spot beside his right knee, but his voice was softer when he spoke.

"Come here Mike, and let's get this over and done with."

It was a relatively simple brain-leg command, but for the life of him, the younger man couldn't make himself rise.

Harvey sighed quietly.

"You think _I_ want to do this?" he murmured, looking the kid full in the face, "because trust me when I tell you Mike, I _don't._ You know as well as I do that you've well and truly earned it this time, so why don't you just make this a little bit easier on both of us and _come here."_

There was no facet of that argument that he could legitimately counter, and so Mike very reluctantly stood and made his way slowly the appointed spot.

"Can't I just bend over the table?" he implored suddenly, his face being so beseeching it might as well have belonged to a two month old Labrador.

Reaching out and taking a hold of the kid's wrist, Harvey shook his head. Pulling him gently down over his knee, he murmured "nope, but what you _can_ do… is you can do as you're told for once. How novel huh?"

Ignoring that last utterance as his boss' arm fastened firmly around his waist, Mike groaned internally. This was certainly _no_ t the ideal way to spend one's Friday night. He buried his face into one of the luxurious cushions adorning Harvey's couch, and wrapped his own arms firmly around it.

He'd learned from experience that this was necessary, otherwise his hands would invariably find their way back to cover his heated rear end, and…that usually didn't go down all that well with the one _doing_ the heating.

"You know exactly why you're where you are Mike, yes?"

Feeling his face redden, the kid nodded jerkily and willed the whole thing to be over as fast as was humanly possible. He could of course run through a series of statistics in his mind, and calculate a probable time of conclusion, but…from previous experience, he didn't want to.

The first crack against his upturned butt came as a surprise, it always did. He bit back the hiss as he once again marvelled at how much a freaking lawyers hand could _hurt._ Within the blink of an eye, Harvey had settled into a rhythm, both thanking and detesting his baseball days and the resultant swing it gave him.

He hated doing this.

He _really_ hated doing this.

As Donna so maddeningly pointed out, this damn kid had totally softened him up, and being the one to cause the faint whimpers that were emanating from his cushion made him feel like an ogre.

Taking a slightly firmer grip on his now slightly wriggling associate, he dipped his right knee and concentrated on the tender sit spots that were sure to draw the first loud whimper.

…and there it was.

Closing his eyes against the sounds of his protégées distress, he willed himself to remain resolute only by imagining the situation Mike had placed himself in.

Kid couldn't fight his way out of a playpen, never mind a drug den.

The slim frame meant he could easily tug down the kid's slacks without him standing up. The boxers joined the slacks a split second later, and it was only the loud crack of hand meeting backside that drowned out Mike's groan of protest.

As expected, the once pale backside was a gleaming red, and Harvey reluctantly set to work deepening the shade further.

With a particularly searing swat, he felt the torso laying rigidly over his knee loosen it's stance somewhat, as his ears faintly caught the strains of very quiet crying.

Wondering if the hatred he currently felt for himself matched the hatred that many women harboured for him, Harvey continued to light a fire in his associates upturned rear end.

When he felt the kid go completely limp, and heard that the quiet crying had morphed into not-so-quiet crying, he laid down the last stinging swat with relief.

His hand immediately found the clammy small of the boy's back, and he rubbed it silently.

Again, he would take it to the grave, but calming Mike down after tearing his backside up was extremely important to him.

He didn't speak as he sat and ran a smooth hand over the still damp back, he knew he didn't need to. With the passage of a few minutes, the breathing that was once hitched returned to some degree of normalcy. A hand was extracted from under the fluffy cushion, and swiped across red eyes.

Knowing that all this meant Mike was about to stand, Harvey rose with him in tandem.

Setting the kid back on his feet, he ran a gentle hand through his hair before striding into his own bedroom. Returning a moment later he saw the younger lawyer just about to refasten his slacks, and he gently grabbed his hand.

Holding out a pair of very soft Harvard track pants, and a Harvard t-shirt, he gently spun the silent prodigy in the direction of the bathroom.

"Go and put those on you, kid," he instructed quietly, "those slacks will kill you. I don't know how many times I've told you that cheap suits cost _lives."_

The slight, watery chuckle that escaped his chastised mentee was like music to his ears, and he exhaled a gutful of air.

As Mike padded off obediently, with a wince that Harvey felt, he set off in search of sustenance.

Opening the fridge, he immediately gave it up as a bad job and grabbed the phone. Within a few minutes, a large pepperoni and cheese crust stuffed pizza was winging its way into a delivery line.

Turning as the door creaked, he bit his lip to keep from laughing.

The t-shirt he had given Mike which fitted him snugly, swam on the kid. The track ends nearly tripped him as he walked into the living room with a scowl.

Pushing a beer in the rookie's direction, he couldn't help but laugh at the sour look that was sent his way.

"Hey," he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender "at least this way, you can pretend you actually _did_ go to Harvard."

Twisting the cap of his beer, and ignoring the hard breakfast chairs, Mike rolled his eyes.

"Still going back to that one?"

Harvey also ignored the seat he was about to throw himself down on, in some kind of bizarre attempt at comrardary, and nodded.

"If it ain't broke…"

Mike took another deep draught with a sceptic brow, and felt relief wash over him.

It was done.

He was still Harvey's guy.

That fact was suddenly reinforced as the man himself walked slowly over to Mike's side of the counter, and threw an arm around his shoulder. Speaking softly into his ear, he kept a firm hold of the t-shirt clad associate.

"You ok Mikey?"

His words, coupled with the very rare use of his affectionate nickname, rang with sincerity and were coated with a gentleness that very few people ever heard come from Harvey Specter's mouth.

Turning, Mike felt his face break into one of the first genuine smiles he'd smiled in weeks.

"Sure. Though, I can see now why your baseball career didn't work out…you swing like a ninety year old golfer."

Any other time, and that cheek would have earned the kid a clip round the ear, but in this instance Harvey merely grinned his toothy grin in response.

Ruffling the spiky hair he grumbled a half hearted "cheeky pup," before shrugging out of his waistcoat and rolling down the sleeve he'd forgotten to unfurl.

Mike's stomach suddenly rumbled and his mouth watered in an intense craving. Turning hopefully to a silently watching closer, he arched a hopeful brow.

"Any chance of-"

He was cut off with a grin, and twinkling brown eyes, creasing at the corners.

"On the way, kid. It's on the way."

….

TBC? I'm not sure! Like I said, there's something just… _difficult_ about writing with/about these two. Hopefully inspiration will strike! Hope you've enjoyed reading!

….


	5. Housemate

A few months later, dead into the night, saw him stumbling in the semi darkness to his front door, Harvey cursed under his breath as his toe stubbed off the coffee table. Glancing at the clock, he scowled as he hopped in pain. It was four freaking am. He had to be up in one hour, and sleep as a high powered corporate lawyer was a precious commodity. Wincing as his pinkie toe shrieked in protest, he lumbered in a long sleeved t-shirt and sweats to the cause of his awakening.

Flinging it open, in the full knowledge that if it was anyone other than Scottie or Donna, he was going to nuclear level pissed, his eyes widened at the sight on his doorstep. The sleep that blanketed them instantly vanished as he instinctively reached out and caught the teetering mess that was toppling into his hallway. Feeling the warm and familiar arms around him, the caller looked up in bemusement. A loud, utterly uncouth drunken belch was offered by way of immediate greeting.

"Hey…. _hey…_ man," Mike hiccoughed, "fancy seeing….seeing _you_ here?" He lolled in the older man's arms, and stared up at him with a glazed looking expression. Which was oddly at contrast with the mixed expression of anxiety and thunder that stared down at him. Blinking to his senses, Harvey half steered, half _carried_ the kid into his apartment, struggling to shut the door behind him. All the while, being forced to listen to an utterly god _awful_ rendition of "Piano Man."

Not being quite able to comprehend what was going on, and knowing that the now half asleep associate sure as hell couldn't tell him, Harvey gently laid him down on the guest room bed. Sighing as he took in his attire, he bent and removed the kid's shoes and tie, and vowed to _kill_ him when he woke up. Standing back however, and looking down on just how very… _young_ Mike looked, he found himself acting on instinct. Reaching down, he turned the kid, who didn't stir, on his side in case he got sick, and quickly exited the room in search of water and a basin. Returning, he placed the impromptu vomit bucket on the ground next to the bed, and the bottled water on the nightstand. Pulling the blankets up over the slumbering rookie, he sighed.

Guess he'd just have to go sans associate tomorrow.

Wearily padding back to his own room, he realised there was little point in going to sleep now. Biting his lip, he was suddenly torn. He didn't _do_ day's off…or personal time, or any of those _things_ that Louis often prattled on about, but there was something inherently wrong about going off to leave Mike to wake up alone, most positively dying of a dangerous hangover. Hovering around in the hall, he threw his hands up in frustration and strode into the kitchen. Punching a number in, he waited impatiently for the call to connect.

A mumbled, sleepy voice eventually answered.

"Donna?" he clipped, before frowning. "Sorry…yes I know it's early, yes…I know I had a tone…" he rolled his eyes as she ranted, "no I'm not rolling my eyes at you," he lied in defence, before letting her run out steam to get a word in edgeways. "Listen, the reason I'm calling is because I won't be in today and I need to reschedule everything on my docket."

His eyes found heaven once more.

"No I'm not dying and _yes_ this is Harvey," he murmured wearily, running a hand through his unusually wild hair. "It's Mike…" he explained slowly, "he's uhm…sick, so he won't be in either, ok?"

His eyes were straining with the effort of his rolling.

"No I am _not_ a soft touch," he protested indignantly, "he's…he's _wasted,_ if I leave him here alone he'll burn down my damned apartment." He closed his eyes wearily and held the phone away from his ear as her roaring laughter sailed through the receiver.

"You get that I'm your _boss_ right?" he grumbled when the laughter eventually died down, "traditionally, you're not supposed to laugh _at_ me." His only response, was yet more, pealing spluttering giggles and he sighed in defeat.

"Whatever," he grouched, the complete disruption to his day beginning to grind his gears, "just clear my schedule, and we'll both be back in the office tomorrow." Thankfully putting down the phone to the sounds of her _still_ shrilling joviality, he lumbered to the kitchen and threw some granola in a bowl.

Clearly, his day had begun, and all thoughts of sleep were irritatingly washed from his mind.

Just as he was about to throw himself down on the sofa and immerse himself in what would probably be horrific daytime TV, a soft moaning from the guest bedroom that housed his intensely drunken charge startled him. Throwing the bowel down on the pristine glass coffee table with a loud clunk, he hightailed it into the room.

His eyes closed despairingly.

His once, top of the line, pristine bedroom, that was more for show than anything else, now resembled the aftermath of a toddlers birthday party. One, at which there was _far_ too much sweets. Putrid, alcohol stained vomit was seeping into his expensive carpet, it splattered his decadent walls and ran down the side of his orthopaedic mattress. In the midst of the chaos, was a half conscious Mike, retching and heaving like nobody's business.

Looking up at Harvey through bleary blue eyes, his distress was evident. Letting out a sad little whimper, he doubled over and projectile vomited over every possible surface within his immediate radius. Except, the basin Harvey had put beside his bed, _specifically_ for vomit related incidents. _That_ basin stood in the middle of the fluid debris, clean as a whistle, with not a scrap of intestinal rejection to be seen.

Blinking, the lawyer forced himself into action, making a mental note to… _kill_ the kid when he was sober. Taking his current situation as a stark reminder as to why he had a "no kids," policy, he took a breath and walked towards the bed where Mike was now essentially mewling and clutching his stomach in anguish. The soft, anxious expression that crossed Harvey's face as he gently reached out, and lifted Mike bodily from the bed, with an ease born of natural athleticism, had never been seen by anyone but Donna.

Half carrying, half steering the vomit covered associate to the gleaming bathroom, his mind began to work overtime. He'd _seen_ Mike wasted a hundred times. He'd _gotten_ wasted with Mike a hundred times, and he'd _never_ seen him react like this. Feeling his brow furrow in confusion and concern, he gently sat Mike down, propping him up against the ornate bath. Reaching over him, he quickly fiddled with the taps, ensuring the water wasn't too hot or too cold.

Confirming his suspicions as he placed a hand on the boy's forehead, he winced. He was burning the hell up. Lifting him slightly, he tipped the half awake, half asleep rookie over the side of the bath, and ran the warm water over him. Removing all traces of vomit from his face and _hair_ with an ease that surprised himself, he felt relief when the kid moaned in relief from what he was sure was a blinding pain in the head.

Realising that he couldn't leave the boy in vomit splattered clothes, he turned off the water and leant Mike against the bath one more. Positioning him so that he wouldn't topple over, he sped from the bathroom to his own room, and quickly fished out a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Making it back to the bathroom in record time, he quickly knelt down and excised the vomit streaked shirt from Mike's torso. Grabbing a towel, he started off the water again, before wringing it underneath the stream and quickly running it over Mike's heaving chest. Grabbing a dry counterpart, he removed the remaining dampness and pulled the clean shirt over the kids head.

Looking down at the vomit covered slacks that Mike had worn to the office _yesterday_ , he groaned to himself. "You're killing me here kid," he muttered despairingly, but nonetheless set about gently removing the putrid trousers. As he tried to manoeuvre the slacks, the designer of which he was _certainly_ not familiar with, his hands brushed against something bulky but soft in Mike's pocket. Not wanting whatever it was to get wet or irrevocably stained with vomit, he carefully excised it without waking the now slumbering kid.

…and that was when his heart skipped a beat.

Looking down at what was in his hands, and the current medical state of his protégée, a horrific sense of realisation seeped throughout his every being, as his brown eyes flooded with a horror rarely seen in the composed closer's visage.

"Mike," he whispered in a strangled croak, "what in the _hell_ have you _done?"_

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: Decided to continue this one, so here we go!

Until next time.

-Inks.


	6. Lead and Dread

Waiting with a beating heart that was so fast in its gate it seemed to burn, Harvey sat on the floor with Mike's head and upper body cradled in his arms. He's managed to get him into clean sweats and a t-shirt and was anxiously awaiting the arrival of his private, very expensive and exclusive, doctor. The kid was sleeping haggardly, with broken intervals of dry retching and whimpering. Holding him tighter, and experiencing a helplessness that was new to him, Harvey had never felt so useless.

Suddenly, a polite knock rapped on the door. Carefully guiding Mike down on the floor, making sure to place him on his side, he dashed out into the hall. Wrenching open the door, he all but manhandled the now rather bewildered doctor into the bathroom. Dr Robertson took one look at the shaking boy and mumbled an askance "oh my…" before dropping to his knees and getting to work. Sensing Harvey towering over him, he glanced up. "Mr Specter…please, could you perhaps fetch me a cold bottle of water and an ice pack?"

Harvey teetered for a moment, torn between wanting to do everything helpful possible, and not wanting to leave the kid. Eventually common sense won out, recognising that the doctor in front of him was one of the best in the state, and spun on his heel. On the bathroom floor, Dr Robertson ran experienced hands over Mike, taking his blood pressure and checking for basic vitals. A frown covered his broad forehead as he tutted disapprovingly.

His eyes ran over the small bag that Harvey had left on the floor, and his tutting was vindicated. It was clearly weed, but the Doctor knew enough, and had been around the block enough to know it had been cut with something a _lot_ more potent than cannabis residue. He knew the signs, and he was willing to bet his licence that the weed in the kid had been contaminated with lead, the same lead that had rendered some of his other high profile patients in similar bouts of discomfort.

Shaking his head, he wondered not for the first time, if there should be an age limit to extreme prestige and wealth. The most problematic of his patients were all heinously rich, and all well under thirty five. Rooting around in his back, he drew out a chelating agent, one he was now accustomed using. He knew that perhaps the kid could do with a jaunt in hospital, but he also knew Harvey wouldn't hear tell of it. Plus, he could treat him, with his vast expanse of resources, just as well at home.

He guessed, correctly, that _this_ would be the kid's home for the duration of his recuperation.

He needed to get the boy into bed, and thankfully Harvey chose that moment to return. "Give me a hand with him, please Mr Specter?" the doctor grunted, as he made to lift the prone figure off the ground. Brushing past him, Harvey gently lifted Mike off the ground himself and held him carefully in his hands. Dr Robertson's eyes widened somewhat. He had treated Mr Specter for years, and he had _never_ seen him show concern like he was witnessing, for anyone but himself.

Blinking slightly, he murmured "to the bedroom then, if you please," and watched in bemusement as Harvey carefully swept from the room, taking pains not to jostle the lead weight in his arms. By passing the vomit splattered room, Harvey strode into his own room and carefully laid the kid down on his bed. Entering behind him, Doctor Robertson firmly indicated for him to leave. There were going to be needles and the like, and he knew the lawyer wouldn't like it. Chewing his lip for a moment, and knowing his need for answers was lesser than the kid's need for treatment, Harvey turned on his heel and exited the room.

He, for the first time, was struck by the need to clean. Filling the wait, he entered the puke covered room that was once pristine, armed with a vast array of cleaning supplies that he had had no idea he owned. He quickly set to work, and within the thirty or so minutes the doc was in with Mike, he had cleansed every imaginable surface top, the mattress, and re dressed the bed. Opening the window to air the room, he exhaled deeply. The kid…he would need a clean room if he were to get better.

His gut churned.

 _If_ he were to get better.

Just as he was finished with washing his hands, and throwing out the vast array of vomit laden clothes, the doctor entered the kitchen behind him. Before the slightly elderly man could open his mouth, Harvey had rounded on him, a rather fearsome look on his face. "What's wrong with him?" he demanded quietly, "does he need to go to hospital? Is he going to be ok? Is it the drugs? He's smoked weed before, and never reacted like this. What's the matter with him? What do I do?"

The kindly doctor blinked.

He looked like Harvey Specter, sounded like Harvey Specter and _demanded_ like Harvey Specter, but the medic had never seen the man seem so _un_ Harvey Specter-ish. Collecting himself, he smiled the reassuring smile he had perfected over the years, and instantly saw a thunderbolt of relief shoot through the young lawyer in response.

"He'll be fine," he murmured softly, "the cannabis…it was contaminated with lead. There's been an outbreak of it recently, and I've seen to at least eight other patients with the same symptoms. The reaction…err, wouldn't have been so severe but for the _extreme_ intake of alcohol that went with it. I've started him on a chelating agent, through IV; the lead should be out his system within the next twenty four hours. I'll be back tomorrow evening to remove the IV and check on him. He should be, given his age and general fortunate health, absolutely fine."

The man in front of him looked like he was about to pass out from relief.

Again, the doctor couldn't quite believe that this was the same Harvey Specter he'd always known.

"Right, well….he needs plenty of fluids. Try and get him to drink as much water as possible, and start him off with a bit of toast if he feels hungry. Fluids are the most important. When he wakes, he'll have err…quite the hangover, but should be no worse the wear from the cannabis. I've left the bag, in the bathroom….I trust you will dispose of it?"

At Harvey's fervent nodding, the doc did something he'd never done before with the man. He cautiously reached out and patted him slightly on the shoulder. "He'll be quite all right, Mr Specter," he reassured gently, "quite all right."

Blinking slightly, the younger man nodded fervently in gratitude. "It's Harvey," he muttered softly, "call me Harvey." The doctor nodded faintly, and gathered up his belongings. "I'm just on the other line if you need anything, call me should anything else arise." With that, he gave one last pat to the man's shoulder and swept from the building. On the lift down, he ran through Harvey's age and the boy's age, and shook his head.

They couldn't be father and son; unless…Harvey had fathered the kid when he was about sixteen…he closed his eyes wearily. That was _not_ an entirely ridiculous proposition where Mr Specter was concerned.

Upstairs, in the penthouse, and the doc's orders were being followed to T. Placing copious amounts of bottled water on the nightstand, Harvey's eyes closed in misery as he took in the IV dangling into the kid's vein. The collapsible IV stand had been set up expertly, and he thanked his lucky stars that he had such a great doc on call. Placing a gentle hand on Mike's forehead, he winced when it remained in the "on fire," territory. He was sleeping more peacefully however, which was some conciliation.

Heading into the bathroom, Harvey grabbed a blanket from the large cabinet, and spotted the bag that had nearly stopped his heart under his feet. Snatching it up with a snarl, he summarily emptied its contents into the toilet and flushed them away. Some of the raw fear was seeping away now, and was being replaced with a raw anger.

They had a deal, he and the kid.

No more smoking weed.

It was that simple, and it was only a few _months_ ago that the boy had made him feel terrible for accusing him of being high. Turned out, he was in the midst of pretty severe hay fever. The kid had honestly caused him to feel like a villain, with his earnest reiterations of the promise he had made, and declarations of hurt that he hadn't believed him.

…and now, this.

Harvey felt his teeth clench together.

Walking back into the bedroom, and throwing the blanket on the carpet, readying himself for a night on the floor, he ran an eye over the prone figure once more. Sighing, he tucked the blankets up under the slumbering chin and rested his hand on the hot forehead once more. The sleeping was deeper still now, and Harvey instinctively knew the kid was out of the night. Running a last eye over him, he exhaled in disappointment.

"Sleep well Mike," he murmured darkly, "you're going to need it buddy."

….

TBC

….

A/N: I'm a trainee lawyer, and _definitely_ not a trainee doc! Therefore, this medical stuff… is a complete and utter fabrication, from an assortment of House and Grey's Anatomy viewing! So, if you're in the medical profession, I apologise for a potentially disgraceful lack of accuracy! I just needed it to fit the story! One more chapter and this one is finished! Thanks for reading guys!

-Inks.


	7. Morning after the night Before

Mike stirred feebly in the ridiculously comfortable bed. He didn't attempt to open his eyes, his current surroundings being much too comfortable to welcome any interruption. But, as semi consciousness gripped him so too did the beginnings of what was obviously a monstrous hangover. Whimpering feebly as a hand instinctively went to press against his forehead, he lay perfectly still as the predictable surge of nausea began to engulf him. Thirst then gripped him, forcing him to open his eyes.

Before wishing he could snap them shut and erase the image they had just captured.

"Morning Mike," Harvey said gently, as he stood stiffly from the armchair beside the bed. "How're you feeling?" he added, resting a hand on the very hot forehead. Wincing, he withdrew it and looked down at the prone form. "Not so good, huh?" Groaning feebly, Mike knew better than to nod. Before Harvey could press any further, a polite knock sounded at the door.

"Be right back."

Sweeping to the door, Harvey ushered the doctor in and led the way back to his room, hoping Mike hadn't spied the IV in his arm, given his tender state. He hadn't. But his blue eyes widened as he spotted the very obvious doctor peering at him from behind Harvey's shoulder. Scooting upright in bed and wincing at the pain, he shook his head.

"Harvey…what….uhh…."

He had suddenly spotted the IV and a panic was setting about him like wildfire.

"What's going on?" he squeaked, "what the hell is this? What have you done to me?"

Moving to Mike's side with a speed that quite frankly stunned Dr Robertson, Harvey laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Calm down," he ordered in his authority tone, "you had a reaction to the _weed_ you smoked that happened to be contaminated with _lead…_ and the doctor has very kindly agreed to treat you from here."

Mike stared.

Before a guttural groan escaped him as events, courtesy of his eidetic memory, soared back to him.

His groan became louder.

Doctor or no doctor, he was a friggin _dead man._

He barely registered the elderly man politely introduce himself and talk him through the IV removal. Lights were shone into his eyes, and gentle hands clasped his wrists. Temperatures were taken, and notations were made. The whole thing passed by him in a flash, and the only thing he could concentrate on was the warmth of Harvey's hand on his shoulder.

In another five minutes, he was IV-less and murmurings that declared him to be just fine were sounding above his head. He faintly heard Harvey thank the man fervently, before showing him out. The loss of the hand on his shoulder was keenly felt, and Mike couldn't help the whimper it produced. In the minute or so he was alone in the room, he felt his world crumble.

He remembered going to the bar with some of the other associates.

He remembered at first, being content with getting totally wasted on booze.

He remembered the first smell of the joint that had appeared as they'd all headed back to…someone's apartment. He remembered the awakening effect it had on him, the yearning to totally cut loose. Work had been insane in the last few weeks. Insane even for Pearson-Hardman, which was a pretty intense level of insane. He was worn out, uptight and needed to cool off.

And so he'd accepted the offer of a joint.

Even though…he'd remembered at that point, swearing to Harvey he wouldn't smoke weed again.

Before the realisation that they were all out was announced, with…someone, coming to the rescue and running out to buy some. He remembered that he was the only one who drew from the new bag, because everyone else was already baked. He remembered beginning to feel incredibly sick about an hour later, with the high dissipating fast.

He remembered stumbling from the apartment block, feeling like absolute hell with one thought firmly fixed in his fried brain. Harvey. He needed Harvey. And so he had…cabbed, to his boss' place. Somehow managed to stumble through lifts and stairs, and somehow managed to hammer at the man's door in the middle of the night…no, morning.

He remembered projectile vomiting all over the guest room and passing out on the bathroom floor.

And now…here he was.

In all kinds of hell.

Before he could assess the absolute escapeless doom he was in, Harvey suddenly reappeared in the doorway. "You think you can eat a little breakfast Mike?" the man asked gently, as he moved beside the bed once more. Blinking in absolute shock, the younger lawyer stared up in confusion. "Breakfast?" he mumbled, "is it my last meal kind of a deal?"

Harvey frowned.

"Huh?"

"Aren't…aren't you mad?" Mike asked weakly, sitting up further still and wrapping his arms around his knees. He realised and remembered with a jolt that he was wearing Harvey's clothes, and a flush stained his cheeks. Staring down at him, Harvey sighed.

"I'm furious," he admitted quietly, knowing that the kid needed to know. He always needed to know what was going on. "You're in about as much trouble as you've ever been…but, mostly…I'm relieved." His stare intensified. "You gave me such a fright, you little…" he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Let's just say I'm glad you're going to be ok."

He threw an arm in the direction of the door.

"Now, I'd like you to eat something. If you don't feel up to it…I can bring it in here to you, or you can come eat in the kitchen?"

Mike stared for a moment.

"I'll come eat in the kitchen," he decided quietly, but baulked when Harvey gently reached out to help him from the bed. "I can do it," he spluttered in indignation, only to quieten down under the elder man's quailing stare.

"Never mind," he conceded weakly, and allowed himself to softly pulled from the bed.

Settling Mike down at the kitchen counter, Harvey rooted through the cupboards. "You want cereal or…?" Not feeling in the least bit hungry, but knowing that was basically an irrelevancy Mike opted for toast. Nodding, and throwing some bread in the toaster, Harvey set a large glass of orange juice in front of his still pale protégée.

"Drink," he instructed quietly, "you need some sugar in you."

Not needing to be told twice, Mike threw the whole glass down in one or two glugs. Quickly refilling the glass and grabbing the toast, Harvey set the plate down in front of the rookie lawyer, and pulled some jam and butter from the fridge. Settling himself on the other side of the counter, he watched quietly as Mike slowly buttered a slice.

"How're you feeling?" he repeated anxiously, after a bite had been taken, "do you feel sick or anything?" He shook his head impatiently for a moment. "Other than the hangover, I mean." Nodding his understanding, Mike assessed himself. All in all…he actually wasn't doing too bad. His headache was lessening with the food and drink he was intaking, which seemed content to stay in his stomach.

"I'm ok," he answered quietly, and he knew that Harvey knew he was telling the truth.

"Eat more," the man instructed in answer, thanking his lucky stars once more Dr Robertson was on his call list. He watched as Mike obediently took another bite, and shared in the relief it seemed to be staying in his stomach. When everything had been eaten and drank, Mike fidgeted in his seat. The oversized clothes that swum on his slim frame and the guilt ridden look that had a hold of his usually mischievous eyes, made Harvey feel about a hundred years old.

"I'm really sorry," the kid muttered softly, "Harvey…I'm _really,_ really sorry."

Sighing, the closer nodded wearily. "I know you are, I know…" Jerking his head in the direction of the bedroom, he stood. "C'mon…you need to get back to bed, and rest up. I'll call you for some lunch, but I want you to get some sleep now."

Mike stared, before shaking his head slowly.

"Uhh…" he began stutteringly, with another flush painting his cheeks, "aren't you…uhm, aren't you going to err…you know, sp…uhh, punish me?" Reaching over and pushing the plate and glass out of the way, Harvey placed a gentle hand under Mike's arm and carefully pulled him to his feet. One hand on each of his shoulders, he propelled him towards the bedroom.

"Don't worry about all that right now," he instructed quietly, "I just want to see you get a decent sleep. When you wake up, you're going to take a shower and we're just going to take it easy tonight. Don't worry…your butt is mine tomorrow. But until then, it's total rest and relaxation for you buddy."

Before Mike could even formulate a protest, Harvey was pulling back the bed covers and pushing and prodding the kid gently back into it. Passing him the remote, he pulled the covers up, before leaving for a moment to grab some water. Placing the bottle on the nightstand on his return, he couldn't help but smile at the show Mike had switched on.

" _The Good Wife_ ….c'mon, really?"

Mike looked up with a hint of his usual grin.

"It's a good show," he defended weakly. Rolling his eyes, Harvey eyed the television sceptically. "You got twenty minutes, and then that's off and I want you sleeping, you hear?" Nodding, Mike laid back on the pillows, as the elder lawyer made to leave.

Until a voice stopped him.

"Harvey?"

Turning immediately at the tone in the voice, Harvey stepped back to the bed. "Yeah?" he asked anxiously, "you feeling sick?" Shaking his head slowly, Mike blushed a little more. "Do you wanna…uhh, watch a bit of this…with me?"

The older man stared, before getting it.

Because, despite what Donna told him, he wasn't _quite_ as emotionally moronic as she thought.

Mike…was struggling to get his head round the idea that he wasn't immediately in the hot seat, as he would be if he had done something with the same level of egregiousness that _didn't_ impact his health. So…having him close, would reassure the kid that it wasn't that he wasn't _bothered_ with correcting the behaviour, but it was simply that his health came first. Losing his parents so young, and being raised with an exceptionally well intentioned and sharp grandmother, had ultimately left Mike lacking in the male role model department.

So Donna said anyway.

So…over time, Harvey guessed he had subconsciously slipped into that role. Even if he'd wanted to _refrain_ from such slipping, he knew he wouldn't have been able to. There was something about Mike…under that intelligent wit and high level of self sufficiency…that needed a guiding hand. A firm hand.

A firmly guiding hand.

For him, that hand had been Jessica.

And now for Mike, that hand was him.

Smiling slightly, he nodded and perched on the side of the bed. He tried not to notice the light that lit up in the kid's eyes. He still _needed_ to retain his _fury_ with the boy. Because when tomorrow dawned, it would be a different Harvey that perched on the side of the bed. And it would be a different Mike. But for now…he supposed he was content to break his own rules, and show off his newly found vulnerable side.

His "Mike" side.

So Donna said anyway.

Settling down, he reached over and passed the bottled water over with a raised brow. "Drink," he commanded quietly, before finding his position uncomfortable. As if reading his mind, Mike moved over and left a spot for him, looking at him shyly. Biting back a smile, a jeans and t-shirt clad Harvey moved up and perched on top of the covers, beside his rapidly sleepy looking associate. Turning the volume up as Mike drank noisily, he found himself relaxing himself for the first time in the last twenty four hours.

Turning to an engrossed Mike with a frown on his face some minutes later, he shook his head in confusion.

"I thought Kalinda was with Cary? Who's the fed?"

…..

TBC

….

A/N: I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I feel it needs one more to fully finish it off. Apologies for delay in posting, life's been hectic! Next chapter is up soon!

Thoughts?

-Inks


	8. When All is Said and Done

Harvey looked up and smiled as Mike meandered into the living room the next morning. The kid looked his usual self, his face full of colour and the limp, ill look long gone. Scooting himself up off the sofa, he began to pull cereal down from the shelf and quickly fixed his house guest a bowl. Accepting the breakfast with a sheepish smile, Mike took in Harvey's laid back attire and felt his brows shoot up in confusion as he chewed.

"Aren't you a little… Causal Friday for a Wednesday?"

Harvey glanced down at his faded denim jeans and his simple white t-shirt and shrugged. "We're not going into the office today. We're back tomorrow, bright and early." Choking slightly on his mouthful of cornflakes, Mike swallowed with difficulty and looked up in alarm. "We're taking _another_ day off?" he squeaked, "but, Harvey-"

"But Harvey _nothing,"_ the man himself interrupted, allowing a stern ring to his voice. "You and I have a _lot_ to talk about and I wanted to make sure that you're completely back to your normal, annoying self before I unleash you back at the office." There was a horrified silence in the wake of his speech that made the elder lawyer melt slightly. "We need to deal with what happened Mike," Harvey added gently, "and I thought…" he reddened, but pressed on, "I thought after…it's done, we could maybe uhh…catch a game, or something?"

The horrified silence morphed into a stunned stupor.

"A game?" Mike echoed slowly, "with…you?"

Harvey instantly felt his flush grow hotter as he did his best to give a nonchalant shrug. "If you don't want to, its fine," he said quickly, "I just thought…uhh…" What he just _thought_ is that he should have known Mike was strung out from work. He didn't need to be told that the insane levels of pressure that the firm heaved on its willing participants eventually took a toll. With Mike, that toll had been lead based freaking weed.

As emotionally stunted as he could be accused of being, he had an inkling that some…time alone, outside of the job and outside the realm of _"you're in for it,"_ with him, would in some way be good for Mike. If he were forced to tell the truth, he'd admit that he enjoyed the kid's company. His inner thoughts were interrupted by the slightly crooked smile that crossed Mike's face as he shuffled in his seat. "I _do_ want to," he said so earnestly that Harvey had to bite back a chuckle. "It's just…." a faint blush stained his cheeks, "aren't I…in trouble?"

The older man's head instantly nodded.

"You bet your ass you're in trouble," he replied quietly, "and trust me…wherever we go or whatever we do today, I suggest you enjoy it…because your… _extracurricular activities_ are going to be a hell of a lot more confined from now until I say otherwise, you understand?" The gleam that had lit up Mike's face faltered a jot as he managed to nod slowly. "Grounded?" he asked meekly, to be answered with a firm, unwavering nod.

"Grounded."

Mike suppressed a groan. How they had gotten to this place where Harvey could quite simply tell him in no uncertain terms that his foreseeable future was work and home…and him to be ok with it, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had let the man down, and he felt guilty. Really guilty. He should have gone to Harvey and told him he was frazzling with the insane workload. He would have sorted something out for him, and he should have known that. "I need to step out for a bit," Harvey suddenly said, setting down his coffee cup. Shooting a stern look at Mike, he raised a brow. "So help me god kid if you are not in this apartment when I get back, you'll attend all social functions with Louis for two months. Capiche?"

Mike gagged on his cornflakes.

"You would _never_ do that to me," he spluttered in outrage, "…right?"

Harvey couldn't help but burst into laughter as he scooped his keys up and ruffled Mike's hair as he passed him. "Don't push me, and you'll never have to find out," he retorted calmly, before grabbing a jacket and throwing a "get yourself dressed, you look like an urchin," over his shoulder and sailing out the door. Glancing down at his attire, Mike rolled his eyes.

"They're _your_ clothes," he muttered mutinously as he heaved himself up to rinse his dish. The sudden aloneness of his situation kicked him into nervousness. He knew he had a first class ass tanning coming his way and his stomach clenched with horrified anticipation. He was grateful for Harvey's calmness. He may shout at the office, but…out of hours, he'd never heard him raise his voice. But in a way, it always made him feel worse. The patience that the older man seemed to have for him would have shocked anyone and everyone but Donna.

A few minutes later and he had washed up and somehow mercifully found a pair of clean sweats and a t-shirt of his own that had been left at Harvey's a couple of months back. Giving up his unruly hair as a bad job, he padded around the ridiculously opulent apartment in socked feet. It suddenly seemed extremely big without Harvey in it and he was at a loss for what to do. Deciding to make the most of his limited ability to sit, he threw himself down on the sofa and flicked on the plasma. An hour or so later he was engrossed in a show, not even hearing Harvey amble back in.

"I leave you alone for an hour and you turn into a desperate housewife?"

Mike jerked upwards and scrambled upright shaking his head frantically with a blush. "Uhh…no, it was just…commercial break and…uhh…."

Harvey rolled his eyes and let it pass. Sitting himself down and shrugging out of his jacket, he slumped into the armchair opposite his house guest. Rummaging in the brown sack he held, he extracted a pharmacy vial and a bottle of water. Shaking two large white pills into his hand, he stood and crossed the room. Holding the medication and water out to Mike who looked at him in bewilderment, he raised a brow.

"Doc called and said these would boost your system back up after…what happened. Take them."

Mike stared.

"This…is where you went?" he spluttered, not reaching for the pills and feeling his mouth drop open.

Harvey blinked and nodded, not understanding how someone so intelligent could find the most simplistic of things so difficult. "Yes," he confirmed slowly, before extending the pills and water again. "Now, would you take them already?"

Mike merely continued to stare. The extent to which Harvey apparently cared about him was hitting him full on in the face and he was struggling to digest it. Sure, he knew the man cared about him. He busted his chops enough to know that. But that was always how Harvey _had_ shown he cared. The more hell he gave you, the more he valued you. The relationship between the two had gradually slipped outside the sole realm of mentor and mentee, but the full extent to how far they'd come was starting back at Mike now, and he felt his throat constrict slightly.

"Thanks," he mumbled thickly, finally reaching for the pills much to Harvey's relief. Watching him throw them down with a healthy glug of water, he felt his insides shrink a bit. He couldn't put of the impending…conversation any longer. Sitting down beside Mike and relieving him of the bottled water, he cleared his throat. There was an instant stiffening of the wayward associate.

"We need to talk about what happened now Mike... you know that right?"

There was a sticky silence for a moment, before a tousled head nodded up and down with a tangible misery. Sucking in a breath Harvey battled with himself. On the one hand, he could have throttled the damned kid for the stunt he'd pulled. On the other, he was still bathed in the all encompassing relief that there would be no long term effects and that the boy was in perfect health. Knowing that the former had to win out over the latter to avoid a repeat performance, he slapped on his most stern of faces and turned to face a shrinking looking associate.

"I think now would be a pretty good time to _explain yourself_ then."

A misery was spreading throughout Mike as he nodded once more and tried to remain calm. The amiable, joking Harvey that made breakfast and got supplements was gone now. He was rapidly being replaced with the stern, no-nonsense lawyer that was so damned tenacious in getting to the bottom of things. He knew he wasn't just being asked to explain that he smoked. He was being asked _why_ he had smoked. Feeling a tinge of embarrassment taint his cheeks, he cracked his mouth open.

"I guess…"

"Don't guess, _know,"_ Harvey chided in interruption.

Nodding at the familiar rebuke, Mike tried again. "I wasn't doing that well with the last merger. It was intense. I had my associate pool work on top of it and…I just got wound up. I was feeling crabby and miserable and when we finally closed that case, all the associates went out. They were getting baked, and I said no at first Harvey I _swear_ I did. But…the smell, you know? After a while…it just got to me, and I wanted it. I really wanted it."

He looked down in shame and so he missed the care that shone in the elder man's eyes.

"So I took it."

He looked up with a difficulty and locked his blue eyes with brown counterparts.

"I'm really, really sorry."

Silence descended then, as Mike let his head fall downwards once more, regret choking him. Harvey looked on in conflict. He should have _known_ that the kid wasn't dealing well with the stress. It had even gotten to _him,_ so he should have been on the lookout for the signs that it was getting to his associate. That was his bad. His failing. However, Mike had looked him in the eye and sworn down to him that he wouldn't use again. His position was too tenuous. Drug testing came and went as fashionable at the firm, and Louis could seize any day to unleash "pee in a cup time."

It was too big a risk.

Plus…an annoying part of Harvey didn't give a damn about the employment ramifications. He cared that the thoughts of Mike being in a position or situation where his mind was too clouded to think clearly, scared him. Really scared him. Stifling a sigh, he ran his hand through his thick hair in consternation. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I should have noticed."

Mike's neck whipped backwards so fast it was slightly disturbing. "What?" he spluttered, "you should have known what?"

"That you were struggling," Harvey said quietly, looking at his own fingers, "I should have known…because _I_ wasn't dealing too well with it myself. Jessica was on by back twenty four seven and then… _I_ was on _your_ back…." he looked up and Mike winced at the look in his eyes, "I'm sorry kid…I should have seen it. I should have stepped in."

Another silence loomed as Mike choked on his indignation.

"Are you insane?" he demanded, "this was _my_ fault… _I_ did this, not you."

Harvey smiled a sad smile. "A part of my job, is looking out for you Mike," he contradicted quietly, "that means knowing when to turn up the pressure, and when to turn it off." He looked the slightly less confused looking kid in the eye and shook his head regretfully. "I should have turned it off, Mike…not turned it up. I'm not excusing your behaviour; you're still in for it. But…I'm just admitting my role here, and promising you…it won't happen again."

Mike knew there was no arguing. Sure, Harvey had been harder on him than usual with that insufferable merger…but he had understood Jessica was being just as hard on _him._ Suddenly he was struck by a desire just to have the whole thing behind them, to push the incident into the past…where it belonged. As if reading his mind, Harvey cleared his throat and shifted himself back on the sofa slightly.

"That being said…you made all the wrong choices Mike. You broke a promise to me. You swore to me you wouldn't get high again, and the minute my back is turned…you're off doing god knows what with god knows who, and it is _not_ acceptable to me. You got that?"

Mike nodded glumly.

"How can I trust you, if you don't keep your word?"

The younger man flinched. He couldn't help it. Those words hurt worse than a punishment ever could. Turning torn eyes on his more than just a mentor, he looked so beseeching he wouldn't have been out of place in a stray dog poster. "I'm sorry," he croaked, "you've got to believe me, I'm _sorry._ You can trust me…you know you can. I won't do anything like this ever again, I swear…"

Harvey held up a hand before the kid could get himself worked up.

"I know," he said gently, "I know you're sorry. I know that you didn't set out to break your promise and that sometimes life...just happens. But I need you to know that there are consequences to that. When you don't make the right choices, you have to face the repercussions of it. You understand that, don't you?"

To his credit, there was no hesitation in Mike's nod and Harvey felt a flash of pride.

"For the next two weeks, except for this afternoon…you're looking at the walls of the firm, and the walls of my apartment or your apartment. Nowhere else. No going out with Rachel, or the associates. No drinking, no bars, no movies…no nothing. Do you understand me?"

Mike bit his lip miserably but managed to nod within a reasonable timeframe. "I get to come over here though?" he asked suddenly, perking up a bit which drew a chuckle from Harvey before he could help it. "Sure kid," he laughed, "as long as you bring the pizza." The laughter faded from him as the next part of Mike's punishment loomed large. Steeling himself, he forced his stern expression back into play.

"Now…you're about to get your butt roasted, you know that don't you?"

This time, the nod was slightly slower…but all in all, Harvey couldn't blame the boy. Nodding his encouragement of the kid's cooperation, he braced himself for a bout of _non_ cooperation. Jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen, he sighed. "Putting yourself in danger, actual _medical_ danger…is not something I'm going to put up with Mike. So…go and get the wooden spoon and get back over here please."

He was right about the non cooperation.

"Harvey," Mike instantly pleaded with those ridiculous puppy dog eyes, "please…no, not the spoon. I'm sorry man, ok? But please…I'm already grounded and I already threw up my guts for a day…isn't that enough…isn't…."

The elder man's stern glare cut him off and he swallowed hard.

"Michael," he intoned firmly, noting the kid's horror at the return to his full name, "if I had pulled what you just pulled…I'd have been on bended knee thanking god I was only getting the spoon. My father would have worn his belt out on me. Now _get_ up and _get_ that spoon, before you make things any worse for yourself."

With one last miserable squeak, the young man realised the battle was lost and stood miserably. There was no point in antagonising the situation, and so he moved quickly. Wrenching open the drawer where the horrifying spoon resided, he picked it up gingerly. He had experience with this spoon, and had he mustered up the balls he would have burned it in the dead of night. Holding it like a rattlesnake, and apologising internally to his poor behind, he landed himself back in front of Harvey who accepted the weapon of horror without a word.

Shuffling from foot to foot in front of the elder man's knee in the expansive living room, Mike was biting back the instinct to run. For sensible reasons. Harvey was faster and stronger than him…and he would have his backside on a plaque for his feature wall if he tried it. Looking down at the oddly younger looking lawyer in his casual clothes, he felt embarrassment well up inside him. This was _not_ the ideal way to spend a Wednesday afternoon.

"You understand why you're getting a spanking, Mike?"

The flush was instantaneous. Hearing his doom being referred to so simply and calmly as a "spanking" was mortifying, but he nodded quickly. Satisfied, Harvey moved slightly closer and reached out at the young man's hips. "Put your hands behind your back," he ordered quietly, and for the first time Mike outwardly baulked as he guessed what was happening.

"Yep," Harvey affirmed grimly, "you go this far off the reservation and you kiss goodbye to a warm up. It's a full, bare bottom number for you kid. So…this is the last time I'll ask… _put your hands behind your back."_

The tone alone had Mike's hands flying to clasp together behind his back as he closed his eyes in utter horror. He felt himself being gently tugged closer to the couch, and Harvey's fingers quickly finding his sweatpants waistband under his baggy t-shirt. Within a second, they were tugged down to his knees and he felt a cool breeze caress his bare butt under his mercifully long shirt. He didn't open his eyes to see himself being pulled carefully down over Harvey's knee.

It wasn't as if he wasn't familiar with the position.

Pushing the t-shirt up from the kid's backside, Harvey suppressed the most miserable of sighs. He _really_ did _not_ want to do this. But do it, he would…if it meant Mike might think twice next time. Knowing he was being a hell of lot firmer than usual by refusing a warm up, he bit back a stab of self loathing, only made possible by reminding himself that the kid had brought it on himself.

Words were redundant now; he knew the time for physical action had come. Holding the boy tight to him, he raised his hand high and brought the first of what would be many stinging swats down upon the pale, uncovered backside. The crack was oddly deafening. Harvey had switched off the television entirely when Mike had fetched the spoon. He wanted the kid entirely focused on his spanking, and not whatever was happening in soap land. His hand left an immediate print on the tender skin, and he hated himself as he drew it back to form another.

Within five seconds, the punishment was well underway with Harvey settling into his usual rhythm of fast, but firm swats. Mike's backside pinked up a lot quicker without the protection of any clothing, and Harvey instinctively knew the first whimper wasn't far off. He may not work with his hands per se, but they were large and firm. Each swat covered nearly half of its intended cheek, and he knew it had to hurt.

Mike may not believe it, but the adage was true. It hurt _him_ to dish it out the spanking.

There was silence except for the odd, predicted yelp or whimper and the consistent stream of steady swats. On the receiving end, Mike was struggling. The loss of his pants was more devastating than he could have believed possible. Each swat bit into him like wildfire and he knew there was a lot more to come. His faint struggles were quickly subdued as Harvey landed two firm smacks to his tender sit spots with a quiet "try and stay still for me Mike."

He tried.

He really did.

But as the swats came harder and his bottom burned brighter, it was a losing battle. Harvey seemed prepared however and merely tucked him into his torso even more firmly. Mike's backside was a gleaming crimson now and his own hand was stinging in protest from the sting it was dishing out. Sighing, he knew it was time to introduce the spoon and there was a slight reprieve for the offender as his hand rested whilst he retrieved it.

Gasping in a breath as his backside roasted in the balmy afternoon air, Mike's now teary relief was short lived as the cold circle of wood was rested lightly on his backside. Tears were streaming down his face, but they were relatively silent ones. He knew however the minute that terror of a spoon was brought down on his heated bottom, it would be a different tale.

"I don't like using this on you Mike…" Harvey muttered gently, "but if I have to spank you with it every day of the week so that you don't make such foolish decisions, I'll do it. You got that?" Not trusting himself to get words through his wall of tears, Mike nodded furiously and Harvey felt an additional stab of sadness as he gripped the spoon firmly. "Good boy," he praised quietly, "we're nearly done…so try and stay still."

He swallowed down another pill of self hatred and raised the spoon high.

Mike's sobs were instant, and devastating.

He couldn't close his heart to the miserable tears and choked sobs as he peppered the gleaming rear end with firm swats. Biting his lip in horror at what he was doing, what he _needed_ to be doing…Harvey resolved to bring the punishment to a close. Holding a vigorously squirming Mike to him tightly, he rained down the final volley of swats on the sit spots that would ensure the kid felt his spanking when he sat down tomorrow.

And just as Mike slumped over his knee, all his fight gone…it was over.

All over.

Harvey threw the spoon out of his hand like a poisonous spider and rested his now empty hand on Mike's sweaty back. He knew better than to try and talk to the kid now. He needed to cry it out first. Feeling like an ogre, he ran a gentle hand over the small of the boy's back and held him tight to him. The vibrantly red backside made him feel guiltier and guiltier by the second, but he never let it show. How long they stayed in that position, he couldn't say. But still as a statue he sat, with his sobbing more than just an associate, expelling all his guilt over his knee.

As the minutes trickled by, the sobs began to subside. The racking of the slender body dissipated, being replaced with a quiet, exhausted limpness. Knowing that this was a precursor to Mike righting himself, Harvey gently reached back and carefully pulled up the kid's pants and sweats over his throbbing backside, wincing alongside him as the cotton made contact. Mike didn't move for another few moments, and Harvey resumed his gentle rubbing through the baggy t-shirt.

And then all of a sudden, as he so often did, Mike suddenly pushed himself up off of his knee.

Standing with him and groaning inwardly at the red face, the bleary eyes and the mussed up hair, Harvey studied the kid sadly. Before he could open his mouth or his arms, Mike was doing the latter for him. Throwing himself into the elder man's chest, the boy barrelled his way into his embraced and buried his tear streaked face into his broad torso. Recovering quickly and feeling the familiar surge of relief that he wasn't hated, Harvey wrapped muscular arms around the slight frame and held him tight.

The muffled, mumbled question would have been incomprehensible to anyone else, but Harvey was wasn't just anyone. To anyone, it would have seemed an odd query. To Harvey, he knew it was the boy's way of putting the incident behind them, and starting the remainder of the day afresh. Somewhere along the lines, it had begun to form a tradition between them, and he found himself thankful for it. Smiling, he pressed his face down into the tangled mop of hair and nodded into it without hesitation, racking his brains for the options he possessed.

"You want Vanilla or Chocolate?"

…

FIN

…

A/N: Thanks for coming along for the journey you guys!


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